Summary: Charles gets the chance to meet his first son with you.
Warnings: none
A/N: This was a story request that I was only too happy to fill.
Charles Brandon Masterlist | Character Masterlist
Duty had pulled him from your side so far into your lying-in.
Not that he would be much help to you during the actual birth, but he could remain nearby should you need him. He found himself liking being needed by you, his dear wife. It hadn't been so much like that before, but you were different, special, in a way that continued to elude yet delight him.
A messenger arrived late one afternoon during one of the Council's overlong meetings.
It hadn't taken Charles more than a few minutes to bid the others farewell and gain the Henry's permission to return to your side. After all, this was your first child together, and Charles had no intention of missing the first sight of his child. As much as he hoped this first would be a son, he truly longed for a healthy child.
Having been witness to Henry's own trails and tribulations with Catherine, Charles prayed nightly for a healthy child above all else. So many of their children had failed to live past infancy, let alone birth. Only one so far. A daughter. While Charles had no doubts she'd be great, he also knew, as did Henry, that the English people long for a male heir to the throne.
His horse was saddled and waiting for him by the time he arrived at the stables.
A brief thanks and farewell were all he tossed behind him, spurring his horse into a gallop before even clearing the city's main gates.
Charles had never been so grateful the estate you'd chosen for your lying-in hadn't been too far outside the city of London. He arrived home within the hour, leaping from his lathered, labored horse.
A stable hand took the poor beast's reins without a word as Charles rushed inside. He couldn't be certain he thanked the lad, but he would no doubt do so after checking upon you and his child.
The familiar halls did little to slow him down nor the servants who'd been busy with their daily duties. It was only at the door to your bedchamber that he was met with some resistance. The midwife didn't tarry him long though, merely gaining his word he'd take care of you and the babe. With his word, she stepped aside and let him into your rooms.
Upon seeing you sitting up and appearing quite well despite your ordeal, Charles felt his knees weaken. The fear of losing one's wife during childbirth was a reality that every man, high or low, had to face with each new pregnancy visited upon said wife. He could only hope at that moment that the birth hadn't been too rough on you and that any others would see you through safely and healthy. To lose you would be to lose a part of himself, a part he never wanted to see gone.
"You are well?" he asked, swallowing down his deepest gratitude and fear.
You, the earthly angel that was his wife, smiled wide as you caught sight of him. "A little tired, but yes, I am well, Your Grace."
He matched your smile.
The bundle in your arms wiggled at that moment, earning a soft chuckle from you. Your gaze dipped to the babe within though Charles couldn't discern any features beyond the tiny hand that reached out wildly. You quickly caught it and brought it to your lips for a kiss.
When you finally turned your attention back to your husband, your smile reflected the love already flowing through you for this new addition.
"Would you like to meet your son, my love?"
Charles's knees did buckle then, but he recovered quickly enough.
"I have a son?"
"You do."
It took him another moment to recall how to walk before he slowly made his way towards the bed's side. With each step, he tried to see more of his son, but the bundle surrounding the tiny boy proved too disguising. It was only as he stood next to the bed and leaned towards you that he caught his first ever glimpse of his son.
To say he forgot how to breathe would be a disservice to such a highly notable man of the English realm.
But he surely did. At least for a moment or two.
So in awe of the miniature image of himself, it took him another minute to see the minute differences. His son's hair was a shade or two lighter than his own but would no doubt be as thick or thicker. When his son blinked, he could make out eyes far bluer than his and far more knowing than Charles could ever dare to be.
Before he could think better of it, Charles reached out for the tiny babe and pulled his son from the bundle, eager to see the rest of him. Not that he doubted you'd done a fine job, but he wanted the honor and privilege to count fingers and toes as you'd done before his arrival. He wanted to feel his son in his arms without the burden of the bundle bedding around him. His own fur would be enough to keep the chill from touching his son while he got this time to himself.
"You are pleased, my love?" you asked after some time had passed.
Charles smiled with no little amount of fondness at his son, then at you. "I am beyond pleased, sweet wife."
You settled deeper into the pillows placed behind you, your eyes starting to droop. It was clear that your ordeal was quickly catching up to you, but you fought it. That spirit of yours was what had drawn Charles to you in the first place. You wanted this time between you as much as he did.
"What shall we call him?"
Charles chanced another glance at his content and sleeping son. "I'd like to call him Henry after the King. What do you think, sweet wife?"
"If it pleases you, Your Grace," you smiled, then worked to cover a yawn, "but I am biased towards Charles myself. He is your almost your spitting image."
You drifted off soon after, leaving the name debate unsettled.
Either way, it didn't matter to Charles as he continued to sit within your room, holding his son. He would never forget this shared moment even long after other children have come and all have grown to have children of their own.
No, this was a moment that would replay often even in gray hairs. It was a reminder of all he held dear and all he could've ever dared to hope for in his younger days. Those days prior to becoming a duke and to meeting you. To becoming a father. They'd all led him to the life he was destined to live, all the happier for having you in it.
"So, not that it matters, but remember when you asked me what I thought about Prince Henry and Alex Claremont Diaz?" Y/N looked at his brother, who had his feet propped up on their father's desk in his office.
He gave Y/N a calculated gaze and nods. "Yeah, why?"
"Well, what if I told you that the Prince of Wales was gay as a rainbow and Alex likes dicks and chicks."
His brother blinked and stared at him for a moment before he started to laugh. "I'd say that you were full of shit."
"Well, I'm not. It's true. Henry kissed Alex underneath a linden tree in moonlight and snow. And I got hot watching them kiss, so, I kissed them both too." He blushed and looked at his shoes.
Did this violate his NDA? Was he going to be taken away for spilling the secret sexualities of the first Son and the first Prince? Y/N took a glance at his brother, who, was so shocked. "Y/N, you didn't!"
"I'm sorry. It's not like I meant for it to happen. It just did. Like getting someone pregnant."
The simp-ificafion of Crowley means everything to me. He gets held captive, develops Stockholm syndrome, and spend the last few years of his life desperate for Dean to make out with him
